Adjective Plural Noun
by sullarco
Summary: Alfred Jones is a small-part actor, accepting bits on theatre performances and trying to make a name for himself. What he doesn't know is, he's got a "biggest fan", one Arthur Kirkland, who's nerves prevent the two from meeting. Until now.
1. Chance

EDIT: REUPLOAD; a couple of spelling, grammar fixes here and there.

* * *

It started by chance. Well, it might have been chance, or it might have been fate; Arthur wasn't going to really label it lest anything backfired on him and it was all at the fault of a label.

It was an improvisation class that he had signed up for when he was small. At seven years old, it was a year before his parents were going to move back to England, but he never thought that he would be moving back home so soon after arriving in America. The improv class was for a week, for elementary students, at the Louden Nelson Center. Arthur would arrive on time, neat as could be, smelling of fresh Honda Civic to the class which cost five dollars an hour. For three hours a day, Arthur followed the course of the class, and while he was waiting for his parents to come pick him up, he'd look at the art on the walls done by other classes' children. Sometimes he'd go down the hallways to the theatre. Small, wooden, the stage a bit old and a bit dull. Rows of seats were present to his right, and the stage to his left. His fingers brushed along the wood, dust catching on his fingers.

"You're in my class, right?" Arthur looked up and further back on the stage was a blond kid with glasses, sitting cross-legged. Arthur recognized him to, indeed, attend the same class. He nodded a lot, keeping his mouth shut in response.

"Do you want to be an actor?" asked the other boy, again.

Again, Arthur remained silent, but shook his head from side to side this time. It made the boy with glasses glare a little bit.

"Why are you taking the class, then? Are you even interested in it?"

Arthur decided to speak this time. "It's just for fun."

When the other glared, jumped off the stage, and left, Arthur just huffed. What a girl, making such a big deal out of a little class. The rest of the classes, the blond boy with glasses didn't talk to him. At the end of the year, Arthur's family moved back to London.

It was twelve years ago the last time that Arthur had stepped inside the Louden Nelson Community Center's Theatre. He was back in America because he was attending college. Well, that's the reason he told everyone. The real reason was because, in London he'd tried to keep up to date with a lot of the things going on in his old town. Santa Cruz was small, but it had its own web site and everything. That was when Arthur found out about Alfred F. Jones.

Alfred was living in San Francisco, and happened to be doing a play at the Civic Center in downtown Santa Cruz. Arthur was very familiar with Phantom of the Opera. He read the reviews and the actors that had done what parts. He watched recordings of the show on youtube. He was eventually led to Alfred's youtube; Arthur didn't comment on anything. Didn't subscribe to the videos. Didn't request him on facebook. Didn't send him fan email. Because there was always that small chance that Alfred may notice him, click on his username, find out a little about who he was. Arthur was not going to have any of that.

The blond haired, blue eyed teen was doing a lot of plays in the bay area. He got cast for all different kinds of rolls. When the time came around that Arthur was supposed to go to college, he decided that University College of Santa Cruz was fine to attend. It was no problem for him to move back to America. Especially if he could watch Alfred Jones perform on stage.

Which was the exact reason Arthur now sat again at the Theatre watching the debut performance of Beauty and the Beast, with Alfred F. Jones playing Gaston.

Arthur loved watching Alfred perform. Even if he was the villian in this one, and Gaston dies, it was how Alfred played the part that Arthur admired. Yes, he admired Alfred. Loved the way he acted, loved his blond hair and blue eyes, how he responded to comments on his formspring, and if it were someone else Arthur would have told them that they were obsessed. But Arthur denied being obsessed; said that Alfred was just some one he admired. Someone he could relate to. Someone he looked up to.

Arthur often considered talking to Alfred. Oh did he consider it. Sometimes, on Alfred's blog, he'd type long detailed comments about how he admired Alfred's acting, and how he used to live in Santa Cruz and go to the Louden Center, and explain that maybe they could talk over msn or aim or something. Then he'd click off the page and never send such long messages. How was he any different from any crazed fan leaving weird things on his blog?

After the last scene, Arthur quickly ducked down from his seat in the theatre and took the nearest exit outside into the night air. The childrens' playground was new. They had torn the old one away and built a brand new one, it looked more fun and definitely safer than the last one. Arthur watched the performers load things into the props truck. All the stage crew and even the actors themselves helped. It was inevitable to see Alfred among them, laughing and they were all congratulating each other. A few girls from the audience went to speak with them and maybe get autographs or something.

The swings creaked a little bit, despite being new. The Briton pushed back and forth with his feet until the truck was all the way packed up and everyone dispersed. Then he got in his car, and didn't take off until the heater warmed it up a little. He thought about maybe the next time Alfred would apply for a play. Some part of him wanted to try acting for himself. Maybe just a background character without any lines, or even the guy who gave everybody water, just to be in the same crew as Alfred and maybe say a little hello, or, great job, Mr. Jones! or something like that. Even if he thought his heart might burst into too many pieces by just being face to face with the actor. When he got back to the university dorm, he didn't even bother to dress properly. Arthur simply flopped onto the bed and fell asleep, frustrated and maybe a little depressed, and really, really tired.

"Arthur, you're spilling your tea."

Ludwig Beilschmidt pointed this out to Arthur during lunch hour, to the very distracted looking blond Briton boy. He leaned onto tabletop boredly, and probably a little tired, but not as tired as Arthur seemed to be, what with him spilling his drink and everything. Arthur's delayed reaction resulted in hastily putting the cup down (spilling even more) and trying to wipe up the liquid with a lot of napkins from the dispenser. Ludwig didn't worry.

"Sorry Ludwig!" Arthur explained, having to use a lot of paper to wipe up the mess he had made. "I went to go to that play last night—it was the debut…" He made a quick trip to the trash can to through away the waded paper.

"Oh yeah, that Alfred guy you like, right?" Ludwig grinned at this, because it made Arthur pretty flustered. "Just kidding, just kidding. So, why don't you talk to him?"

Arthur knew that what Ludwig was saying made sense. Why didn't he just go talk to him? "There is no 'just' with Alfred. I'm sure I'd likely faint and then he'll think I'm some kind of bloody freak—fainting like that."

"You wouldn't faint if you said a few words to the guy. He lives in the area, doesn't he?" Ludwig rested the side of his face on the palm of his hand. "And there are a few more shows that you're probably going to go to, right?"

Arthur nodded and leaned on his elbow. "Every show is different…" He reasoned, maybe to Ludwig, maybe a little to himself, too. "I don't want to be like one of those fan girls coming for his autograph or something." Ludwig always had to be so logical. Since he'd met Ludwig at the beginning of the semester. "Just… a conversation. I used to live here—I think we have a lot in common."

Laughing, Ludwig wondered why this was so complicated for someone who had seemed so headstrong in class and to other classmates. "Then just talk to him."

The rest of the day Arthur thought about what he would say if he did, in fact, talk to Arthur. If he didn't talk to him this show, how long would he have to wait for another play to come along that Alfred was in? "Alright, I'll try."


	2. Coincidence

EDIT: REUPLOAD; Spelling and Grammar fixed, also altered a little bit of Arthur's speech.

* * *

Arthur rolled over in his bed, texting Feliciano. It was almost five in the morning, but it didn't matter because he wasn't tired, and Feliciano didn't have any classes that morning anyway. Not until late in the afternoon.

'i don't know if i can go through with this, feli' was his first text.

'just pretend he's some regular old person, arthur…' The Briton could almost hear Feliciano's tired voice over the pixels of the cell phone.

'but… he's not some regular old person'

've… just don't tell him your name. then if it turns out badly you can just live well knowing he doesn't know who you are!'

Feliciano wasn't helping very much. The worst part was that he was right. Arthur almost wished he had a time machine so that if he messed up once he could just try over and over again—meeting Alfred until he got it right. He arrived at class looking more tired than he felt, but now that he had been awake since five in the morning, he felt pretty tired. Plus there was the added stress of having to go into town to watch another french-written performance (though Alfred played the part well, of course) and maybe even have to talk to the person he admired so much. Just that simple thought made him lock up and his heart beat fast with anxiety and pessimism.

By the time he was on the UCSC bus, Arthur was practically hyperventilating. Outwardly, he kept his cool. It was crowded on the bus and if he was freaking out then someone might think he was in trouble, and he didn't want to draw any attention to himself or anything—that would just be a lot of trouble. Instead he made sure the window next to him was open, and even though it was cold, what with being six in the evening, Arthur needed the fresh air.

Just at that moment, Arthur wondered. Well the show didn't start until six-thirty. Should he try to get a word in before? No no no no no probably not. What if he said something really bad on accident and it distracted him and it messed up the show! Arthur started freaking out again. He got off at the bus stop and walked the block to the theatre, finally able to sit down in the comfort of his seat.

The theatre was just as old as when he was little. Maybe it was supposed to look old; to add to its charm? The performance—marvelous. Better than the first night, which was to be expected because the first night is the first performance. Need one done in front of people to let the rest of them flow freely. Arthur decided that this was probably going to be his new favorite play from now on. When the play ended and the audience dispersed, Arthur left to the outside near the playground. His head turned to the right to the group's truck.

He was there, laughing with his coworkers and stage crew; they drew themselves to Alfred like moths to flame. Arthur stood idly by, watching mostly, but also hiding. He couldn't talk to someone hyperventilating. Alfred just seemed to enjoy helping packing things from the stage, getting along with everyone. It was quiet outside otherwise, and a little dark. Arthur cursed at himself when he tripped on his way over, but he didn't think Alfred noticed to he could release a sigh of relief. By the time he was standing next to Alfred, he knew he had to say something. He couldn't just stand there with his mouth open and expect Alfred to understand.

"Hello." Arthur's voice came out a lot rougher than he thought it would—his throat was so dry. "I'm… I'm… I'm…" He repeated dumbly. Alfred turned his attention waiting quietly and patiently with a smile. "I'm Arthur Kirkland and I—" He gets nervous and anxious when Alfred's expression changed. It was a look of realization. He stepped back when Alfred pushed an index finger to his forehead, right between his eyebrows.

"I remember you!" He didn't sound unhappy, but the color drained from Arthur's face. "You were in my class when we were kids!"

If it were possible to disappear, Arthur would have loved to do so. Forever.

"How're you doin'!" Alfred laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, making Arthur jolt a little. "Wow, you know, I could never forget those eyebrows—you haven't changed at all! What was that, like, second grade or something?"

Arthur remembered there being a blond-haired blue-eyed kid with glasses in his class, but that was so long ago. The chances were—

"Oh! Hey, y'know, the cast and crew are going out for dinner tonight. Listen, send me a message online sometime!" And then he was gone. Arthur stood there a good minute, feeling Alfred's finger on his forehead. Online. Online. Send a message online. Arthur felt strangely happy. He was moving forward, one step at a time. Talking to Alfred hadn't been bad at all. The Alfred from his childhood had disliked him, but this Alfred seemed nothing if not happy to see him. His heart swelled and ached in his chest all at one. The selfish part of him wanted Alfred to have invited him along. He felt like staying in that very spot, the spot where he'd actually worked up enough nerve to talk to Alfred Jones. But it was late, and dark, and cold.

He pulled out his cell phone again and texted Feliciano on his way to the bus.

'i talked to him.' it said when he pressed send.

'oh! did you faint?'

Arthur smiled, 'no, it was a rather nice conversation' He almost fell asleep on the bus. The next text brought him a little closer to being awake.

'since you're so good at being brave will you give me some advice?'

'sure' Feliciano had been someone to encourage him to talk to Alfred in the first place, but he figured agreeing would be better than trying to explain.

'can you help me talk to Ludwig?'

Somehow, Arthur managed to sit down in the campus' cafeteria with both Ludwig and Feliciano. The red-headed Italian was quiet aside from some mumbling to himself.

"He told you to send a message online?" Ludwig watched Arthur and Feliciano enjoy lunch time. "Like on his blog?"

"I… I guess so." Arthur absently ate a sandwich, staring mostly at the ceiling. Last night hadn't really seemed real. "I haven't yet, though. Maybe in a couple of days.

"It's funny that you two had met before, though." Ludwig pointed out. "Weird coincidence, huh?"

"Yeah, coincidence." Arthur agreed half-heartedly. After a lot of silence, Arthur nudged Feliciano a little.

"Oh!" The redhead piped up, gripping the edge of the table and leaning forward a little, swinging his legs back and forth (as they did not reach the floor). "Vee, Ludwig! So how come you don't eat any lunch?"

Ludwig tilted his head to look at Feliciano, "I'll eat when it's dinner." He said simply. Feliciano seemed to melt, getting an answer from the blond. Arthur knew exactly how he felt. Maybe that was how he could describe himself when he spoke with Alfred. He felt like melting.

"You should have more than one meal a day!" Feliciano scolded.

"Feliciano." Arthur stood up. "I have class soon, keep Ludwig company, okay?"

Feliciano put his fingers to his forehead in a salute in his response.

It only took a five minutes for Arthur to return to his dorm, but when he sat down at his computer, staring at the monitor, he couldn't bring himself to actually message Alfred yet. He watched the screen, red white and blue design staring him in the face, yelling at him to type something and send it. But Arthur just sat there. He continued to sit and stare and not comment or communicate at all for two weeks. On a Friday, at almost eleven at night, he typed.

Arthur typed for thirty minutes, talking about how he enjoyed their talk, and how he wanted to talk maybe over MSN or AIM, and maybe get to know each other. Be friends. When he was done, he erased it all and instead put, 'Hello. This is Arthur Kirkland. We talked a few weeks ago. If you would like to talk, my email is .uk' and sent that, instead.

He expected to have to wait weeks, if not forever. The next morning when he checked his email, there was a rather enthusiastic message from subject: Arty! Body: Yo, Arthur. Was waiting forever for your message! It's Saturday— if you're not busy, do you want to hang out?'

Arthur was certain he began hyperventilating. Or he fainted and now he was dreaming and in his dream he was hyperventilating. He clicked to reply. 'Subject: RE: Arty! Body: I would really enjoy that, Alfred. Do you mind if I bring two of my friends along?' He wasn't sure. He didn't want to go by himself. He was so nervous! Bringing along Ludwig and Feliciano would be beneficial. But what is Alfred was offended? He sighed, erased the Body. 'Subject: RE: Arty! Body: I would really enjoy that Alfred. Where and what time?' And he clicked 'send'.

At that time, Arthur studied. He would study for ten minutes, refresh his email, study, refresh, study, refresh, refresh, study.

"Arthur!" Feliciano burst through the door to his dorm. He giddily danced over and dropped himself over Arthur's back, "Guess what guess what!" He then hopped back and twirled, landing on Arthur's bed. "Ludwig and I are going to go out tonight! He's taking me to the boardwalk—the arcade sounds so fun, doesn't it?"

Arthur smiled, "Sounds great Feli— I think I'm going to meet Alfred tonight if I get an email back." They were both moving forward. Arthur stood up. "What're you going to wear?"

Feliciano suddenly became pale. "I don't know!" He whined worriedly. "What am I going to wear?" Arthur just chuckled and helped Feliciano to his feet, leaving the room with him to help him with his wardrobe, and missing the new message on his email.

Hours later when Arthur gets back to his dorm, as he's walking down the hallway, just feet away from the door, he finds himself face-to-face with one Alfred F. Jones.


	3. Independent

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for the comments and the favs and alerts. It really makes me feel better! I took a little break because of school but today was my last day so no more interruptions! Also we're officially halfway through the story! :D

EDIT: REUPLOAD; Fixed more Spelling and such. I'm not sure about tensing- it might switch from past to present. I remember starting the beginning of this in present but I seemed to have written a lot of it in past tense, so it's confusing me.

* * *

"So what did you think of the play?" Alfred sat on Arthur's bed, bouncing and rumpling the blankets. He glanced around, looking mildly disinterested, while Arthur responds.

"The debut?" Said before he turned to his laptop screen. "I thought it was great. Everyone in the cast seemed to have worked hard to make it there." Arthur sat down, finally, in the swivel chair at his desk. After he nearly fainted, seeing Alfred in front of his dorm room, he had to invite him inside. Apparently, Alfred checked Arthur's youtube, facebook, formspring, and blog out of curiosity. When he saw Arthur was a student of the University, he decided to come and pay a visit. He had charmed the young woman in the main office to let him have the dorm number. Alfred actually took pride in this fact.

"Wow that's awesome! You read reviews online and stuff but hearing it from a real live person make it feel so much more real!" He fidgeted on the bed and eventually grabbed one of the pillows.

"Don't you invite people and get them special seats or something?" Arthur shut his laptop and swiveled around to face Alfred. His face feels hot—so much pressure—and he's sure he's shaking.

"Well." Alfred scoots back to the wall. "I invite Kiku." Both of them stayed quiet.

Arthur blushed a little harder, "Oh, is that your…?" He can't find it in him to finish the sentence.

Alfred laughed and adjusted his glasses. Jeez his eyes are blue! "Kiku's just a friend. Well, my best friend, really, but we're not going out or anything. He sure gives great advice, though." And again a silence follows. "So, Arty, you wanna go hang out?"

Arthur's mind flashed to Feliciano. He's 'hanging out' with Ludwig. But didn't Feliciano dress up like one would on a date? Arthur feels his face starting to ache from all the heat and pressure of blood that's rushed to his cheeks. Hanging out, in this case, did not mean date. He continued staring at the bed in thought until he's prompted. "Arthur?" Arthur locks up and feels a sensation under his nose. It tickled. "You're bleeding." He feels his lip and nose and blood comes off on his hand. Shit. His face was flushed so bad he's actually started bleeding. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Arthur puts his sleeve to his nose and went to the bathroom quickly to grab toilet paper to stop the blood flow. "I just—sorry." He ends up apologizing and leaned against the wall, head tilted up. "I can still, I mean, where would you want to hang out?"

"Downtown, y'know? Party every night with the locals!" Alfred shouts and jumps to his feet. Arthur laughs at that, and his voice sounds funny and clogged.

"You mean the crazies and homeless people."

"Hell yeah! Let's go."

Arthur wriggles his nose and throws the bloody paper away, and takes the bloody-sleeved sweater off, grabbing a replacement. He follows Alfred out the door and Alfred drives them downtown. In the car, Alfred plays obnoxiously loud country music all the way to the parking garage. Before they got out, Alfred turned to him. "You want to be the designated driver?"

"Now we're drinking?" Arthur groans. He doesn't know what Alfred is like intoxicated. Plus, he's never been told he's the… well… the _nicest_ drunk. "Me, I guess." Arthur resigns, and they leave the car and stroll downtown.

"Dude. Arty. We should totally watch Kickass! That movie is supposed to be awesome!"

'Arty?' Arthur doesn't really like the nickname, but he smiles, liking his chances of being able to hang out, and do something simple like seeing a movie.

"Sure, Alfred."

Kickass was quite possibly the dumbest movie Arthur had ever seen but he still had found himself laughing now and then. Afterwords, Alfred suggested the Pizza Grille, which seemed pleasant as they go in.

"The Catalyst has pizza but I don't really like it much."

Arthur can't say he's ever spent much of this time downtown so he looks at Alfred curiously. "Catalyst?" He doesn't miss Alfred almost choking at his lack of knowledge of 'Only the coolest concert place ever in Santa Cruz.' Probably the _only_, Arthur thinks. But the Pizza Grille is good! It definitely contests Kianti's just down the street! Even though its outward appearance is not far is not far from a hole in the wall.

"I auditioned for an independent film in San Francisco." Alfred's small talk is actually interesting. Arthur listens about the move's story and how he thinks he did—when the shooting would be. Only a week and a half away! "Yeah. I'm supposed to get a call tomorrow." Somewhere between Alfred's 3rd and 4th beer, they leave to go back to the parking garage. Alfred insists that Arthur take the money to pay for parking from his wallet, and Arthur does, but doesn't put it past Alfred that he's just a little drunk.

"Where do you live?" Arthur asks as they leave and he turns on Center Street.

"Ummm… somewhere." Is Alfred's answer past the grin on his face.

"Well, you have to _tell_ me!"

"Can't." Alfred leans against the window. "Then you can't get back to the University. It's my car."

"Git." Arthur mumbles. "I'll take the bus, of course."

"PFF!" Alfred sits up. "That's so not awesome! The guy always drives a girl home when the date is over!"

"Excuse me!" Arthur feels another nosebleed—he wasn't sure what was more embarrassing: being on a date with Alfred or being the _girl_ on a date with Alfred.

"You know! He drives her home, at the doorstep he gives her a kiss, and that's how it works!"

"Maybe in the 1950's!" Arthur takes the direction to the university. "And I'm not even a girl!" Arthur touches his shirt just to make sure he hasn't grown breasts. "You're a little more drunk than you think you are."

"Not even!" Alfred insists. It's quiet then, as they drive. He keeps stealing glances at the driver, greedy and his mind just a little muggy. Alfred lurches forward when the car stops. He's vaguely aware of being hauled out of his car and up stairs, eventually onto a bed. A part of him imagined sleeping in the same bed as Arthur, snuggling up to him in the middle of the night. But it never happened. The bed remained completely still. Alfred woke up periodically. Off and on, off and on. At some point he did notice someone in the bed with him; must have snuck on in at some point, Alfred assumes.

His eyes open—his glasses still on he notices, to see a head of brown hair. Wait—isn't Arty's hair blond? Alfred leaps out of bed, tripping on a lump on the floor and falling on it.

"Vee…! Arthur! It's just me, I didn't mean to scare you! Oh… Arthur? You got taller…" Feliciano mumbles from the bed. Underneath Alfred on the floor, Arthur groans and sits up.

"Dammit Alfred I agreed to let you stay the night but not injure me! Oh, Feliciano…?"

Alfred fades into the background as the two of them congregate and speak casually. He catches his name a few times. Eventually, Arthur turns to him. "Alright, Alfred." He sits down. "Where's your house so I can drive you home?" Having and idol in his dorm was getting his nerves a bit frazzled.

"Ummm… Los Gatos." Alfred smiled, like it's no big deal.

Arthur sputters, "That's an hour away! Why come all the way to Santa Cruz?" But he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Well, for the show, mostly." Alfred is quiet, then. "I'm staying in a hotel here in Santa Cruz, for now."

"Ah, good."

"Ve, ve! Alfred! You know you're famous?" Feliciano's voice cuts into their conversation.

Arthur freezes up.

"I am? Haha, I had no idea!"

"Yeah, Arthur was so shocked when he found out you were famous? You guys knew each other before, right?"

Feliciano, Arthur notes, needed to learn no to shout out like that. They are in college, already!

"Yeah I would recognize those eyebrows anywhere!" Alfred laughs. "We took a class together as kids but, I don't think Arty liked me very much."

More like the other way around, Arthur can't help but think. The blond boy had pretty much told him to give it up and save the class for people that cared about their career. It sure did knock some sense into the British child. It took him by surprise, to think that this boisterous young man had been the one to knock him down a peg.

"It was a fun class." Arthur decided to say. He's quiet as Alfred and Feliciano talk and chat happily—how well the two of them seem to get along!

"Yo, Arty. You okay?" Arthur looks up when this is said, towards Alfred. "You had sort of a sad face on." As he pushes up his glasses.

Arthur puts on a fake, forced grin, "Fine; just fine. Shall we take you home?"


	4. Secret

"I'm telling you Kiku, it's just like… and he's so! I mean… you know what I mean, right?" Alfred Jones leaned against the countertop of the Laser Tag booth, and on the opposite side was Kiku Honda in Boardwalk employee attire. The Japanese student nodded to his co-worker who was leading the next group of attendees inside the game for the round before he turned back to the obviously distressing, self-proclaimed "actor". Kiku was very open minded, but he was certain that the Actor title was reserved for people who had actually been in a real movie, before. "Right?" Alfred prompted him desperately.

"I suppose so." He answered; he didn't really know what Alfred meant, exactly, but it was obvious that if he said he did it would take a little bit of the stress on the boy's mind away. "What exactly do you find so great about him, again?"

Alfred felt the need to bang his head onto the surface of the counter. "Well, he's kind of timid until you push his buttons a little, and then he gets so fun to be around! A little mean but you can tell that it's all in good fun. I mean, he says stuff but not anything that seems like it's meant to hurt." Alfred paused for a few thoughts, "He's kind of like a Porcupine! They're so cute but when you get near them they kind of hurt, you know? You just got to hold them the right way, and bam! Adorable porcupine!"

Tsundere? Kiku's mind thought at first, and then it was telling him that he was cute, too, and that Alfred should notice. Too late, it seemed. He was already infatuated with another. "What else?"

"Well he's got this really awesome friend, Feliciano, and he seems so weird to be Arthur's friend cause of how silly and carefree he is, but then it makes perfect sense! Opposites are attractive or something, right?" Alfred laughed, and Kiku could practically see his heart; always on his sleeve, so big and for anyone at all. "I really want to see him again! I mean, gosh, Kiku it was like fate or something that he came up to talk to me!"

"Ah, yes; you were in class with him, weren't you?" Kiku smiled.

"Yeah." Alfred turned a bit bashful, looking down at the counter and running his finger along the smooth surface. "We were in elementary school, I mean, I remember him from school a little bit but I didn't even know him until the class at Louden Nelsen. I said something really mean to him on the fly, and I instantly regretted it afterwards. Then he just… goddamn he just like, disappeared!" The blond looked up to Kiku who was paying attention very closely. "You know?"

"Yes, I remember." The other replied, waiting for Alfred to continue his rant. He went on about it ever couple of months or so, and now that he had gotten the change to meet with Arthur again it was about every three days.

"I mean, what are the chances, right?"

Alfred, Kiku notes, had that big goofy smile on his face. "When are you two meeting up again?"

"I dunno I gotta email him. Hey, I'll catch up with you later, okay? He usually signs on msn briefly before he goes to class!"

"Bye, then… Alfred-san."

Arthur was staring at his messenger screen when 'partyintheusa' came online. "Ha ha!" Arthur laughed out loud, announcing his triumph to Ludwig. "I told you he usually comes online around this time of day."

"You told me, alright." Ludwig rolled his eyes and pushed up his reading glasses a bit farther, and looked back down to his schoolwork.

Arthur waited for a message patiently; he didn't want to seem like he was waiting or anything, after all.

'yo, arty!'

Why did he have to precede everything with 'Yo' and use that ridiculous nickname?

'Hello Alfred.' The messenger informed him that 'partyintheusa is typing' before he added a 'How are you?'.

'partyintheusa has entered text' appeared briefly before Alfred was typing again. 'i'm cool. i was thinking you should give me a neat-o nickname like I gave you, wouldn't that be awesome?'

Not really, Arthur couldn't help but think. He chose to ignore that part of their conversation. 'Alfred, I was hoping we could hang out again before you have to leave to do your film.'

'okay!' Arthur didn't respond. He was stubborn; Alfred had to make the plans. 'the last showing of our play is in two days, come to the show and afterwards you can come with us to the club. we always go drinking after the last night.'

Drinking—again—didn't really sound like the ideal plan for Arthur, but he'd agree if it meant talking with Alfred a little more. Arthur responded, 'Sounds like a plan. I've got class now, see you later?'

'definitely!'

Arthur promptly signed off. Immediately after he turned around and was face to face with Ludwig. "Why'd you tell him you've got class? You finished your last class for the day two hours ago."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him, Ludwig." Arthur had to say it out loud to convince himself.

It wasn't any more than a second after that when Feliciano burst through Arthur's dorm room and joined the two to form a triangle, of sorts. Arthur didn't miss the way Ludwig's face got pink.

"Oh, hello, Ludwig!" The Italian greeted him and then turned to Arthur. "Ve~ Arthur! I finished with class and I thought we could hang out! You've been so busy obsessing over Alfred that I've been really lonely!" Feliciano's eyes turned a little sad, and if you were looking closely you might have been able to recall a slight droop of the one prominent haircurl on his left side.

"Feliciano, I'd love to, but I'm afraid I've got quite a lot of homework, and I don't want to fall behind." Arthur replied sadly. Hanging out with Feliciano, his kind carefree friend, did sound like something he'd enjoy, but if he didn't get a C in his class he'd have to retake the course; just more money wasted. He turned to the tall, blond, stoic Ludwig. "M-Maybe Ludwig could hang out with you? I'm sure he'd love to, right?"

Ludwig tried to keep a straight face but his complexion was getting a tad redder, clearly the fault of rushing blood. "What did you have in mind, Feliciano?" Ludwig was suddenly quiet.

"You'll see! It'll be great!" Was the only information Feliciano gave him before grabbing the German's hand and dragging him from Arthur's dorm. Said student fell onto his bed and sad there stiffly. Without anyone in the room he felt the intensity of what would occur two nights from now. The whole forty-eight hours seemed like a tense blur. Arthur was constantly playing out scenarios in his head about how the night could go. After crossing some out (out of embarrassment), he concluded it could only end two ways.

The first way was that Arthur got so nervous he ended up drinking far too much and then threw up from the amount of alcohol in his system, in which Alfred would deem him an alcoholic and drop him off at the dorm; ultimately their relationship would end there as no amount of apologies would be accepted for his lewd behavior.

The other way was that Arthur got so nervous he ended up drinking far too much and then started saying things he (didn't) mean, in which Alfred would take it the wrong way entirely and drop him off at the dorm; ultimately their relationship would end there as no amount of apologies would be accepted for his lewd behavior.

Both ways ended up the same and it only made Arthur one hundred times more nervous than he already was. All he had to do was refrain from drinking and everything would be okay. Probably, anyway.

Once again, Arthur loved the performance given by the cast. It was the last night so everyone was excited and loud and when Arthur approached the backstage door from the outside he had to take a couple of deep breaths before he could even touch the knob. As he did, a rather tall fellow wearing a coat opened it, ready to make his way to the stage crews' van. Of course Arthur was a pretty effective road block. He pressed his body against the wall to let him take the walkway space.

"Can I help you?" The man said instead, obviously not recognizing Arthur as part of their group.

"Er… yes. No! I mean; I'm just waiting for Alfred." Arthur finally managed to say without passing out. He probably seemed like one of those weird girls that stalk people for a scrap of paper with some ink on it. Pathetic, in other words.

"Oh. Jones." Arthur couldn't help notice the mans heavy accent. Not that he should talk. "Yes he is in there. Go in if you want, I am guessing." The man seemed otherwise disinterested in Arthur and brushed passed him to the sidewalk. After taking a few more calming breaths, the Briton turned to face the door again and bumped into the chest of none other than Alfred F. Jones.

"Heyyy! Arty! You came!" Alfred pulled him into a crushing hug and then pulled back, one arm around his shoulder to lead him away from the backstage door. "C'mon, we gotta get to the bar before everyone else!"

Arthur didn't know why he should even bother to ask at all. Even so, a small, "Why?" escaped him.

"Well, because then we get there first, of course!"

Arthur would never be able to understand that type of reasoning. "There's a tall fellow in a long coat who already left, I think…"

"That bastard, sneaking out before me! Hurry, Arty! To the Batmobile!" As it turned out, the 'Batmobile' was a 1958 Chevy Impala. Nice car, but Arthur wouldn't put it past him if Alfred had already had a couple of drinks, already.

* * *

a/n: i've got a poll on my profile page about what kinds of fics you'd guys like to see. :) it'd really help me to know what my readers' top interests are.  
i know people read this. i checked the traffic and i still get like nearly fifty page views a day...


	5. Almost

a/n: one more chapters guys. :

* * *

"Glad you finally decided to join us, Alfred."

Arthur recognized the speaker as the man whom he had run into before; a tall man with ash blond hair and a round nose, who obviously had some kind of problem with Alfred. Just the way the venom dripped from his voice, while at the same time maintaining that smile, Arthur knew he was odd somehow.

"You're lucky someone as bitchin' as me decided to show up, Ivan." Alfred shot back with just as much venom, but his face did not smile like 'Ivan's did. He scowled angrily passed his glasses and pushed past him further into the bar. Arthur followed uncomfortably. He didn't know why exactly he agreed to come because he hated drinking with people he didn't know well; with Antonio and Francis is was perfectly fine to drink. Even with Feliciano and Ludwig he wouldn't mind, but he felt self-conscious with just the thought of drinking in front of Alfred. The next thing was, dealing with drunk people while your self was sober wasn't on his list of things to be doing, either.

Eventually, other cast and crew from the show showed up, some alone and some in pairs but they all talked with each other like the best of friends and Arthur did not catch one person out of place. He wasn't really a social butterfly either, but the more Alfred drank, the stronger Arthur felt in his ability to open up to the blond-haired, blue-eyed actor. The more drunk he got the less he'd be able to remember.

Arthur jumped out of his thoughts when the aforementioned whacked him roughly on his shoulder, "You know, Arthur! You'd really like my buddy Kiku; he lives around here and stuff and I live so far away so I never get to see him and everything!" Arthur inwardly cringed at Alfred's grammar, but it wasn't really any different now than when he was sober, it just must have been because Alfred was twice as loud. "But I have to go to San Francisco for a while cause of that film thing. I dunno how long I'll be there; kind of sad because it's kinda far, you know?"

It was only a two hour drive, at most. Arthur looked down at the bar counter top. What had he been expecting from this? That Alfred and he would become friends and visit and hang out like best friends? Or even... Arthur refused to let himself blush with so many people around. After he had found Alfred actually for the first time a few weeks ago, he would be lying if he had said he'd never had an inappropriate thought about him. Alfred was very handsome, so sometimes thoughts of kissing Alfred or imagining his stomach and what his skin would feel like was not abnormal in Arthur's head. But if he was moving to a location two hours away to be in a film, any chances of either would be flying right out the window. Arthur turned his head to the left to face Alfred.

"So... that means you got the part you were talking about before?" Arthur had to confirm it first.

"Oh yeah didn't I say that already? Guess I forgot!" But then he was thrust back into another conversation on his other side, laughing and oh god that laughter sent shivers through Arthur's spine.

Hours passed; eventually Arthur sucked up his thoughts and chatted with a couple of Alfred's 'co-workers', all of which were polite but fun at the same time. Arthur pulled out his mobile and checked the time. 12:07 am. Politely, Arthur touched Alfred's shoulder to let him know he should leave, and the action made him hesitate before he came to his senses. Alfred turned curiously and then just beamed at him.

"What's up Arty! Feeling left out?" He laughed. Arthur could smell the alcohol from as far away as he was.

"It's past midnight, Alfred." The name felt strange on his tongue. There was just this feeling that his last name, more formal, would be more fitting for their relationship. "I have to get back to campus. Thank you for inviting me." All of this said over a lot of chatter and a lot of alcohol so Arthur wasn't quite sure if the other blond got everything he had said.

"Oh hey, let me drive you up there!"

Arthur almost fell off of his chair. "Are you daft!" He couldn't help but shout; luckily no one really noticed in particular because of all the general chatter. "You're beyond drunk! I'm taking the bus, of course!"

"Well!" Alfred stood up and stumbled, holding onto the counter to steady himself. "Let me walk you to the bus station or something!"

Arthur willed his blood not to rush to his face. "A-alright." Internally cursing himself for stammering. He made sure he had everything (wallet and keys) and left the bar, Alfred following. They walked in absolute silence, but Arthur just thought that maybe Alfred was a little too drunk to talk without getting sick on himself. His mind wandered to how the hell Alfred was going to drive home, or more specifically who was going to drive home for him (to the hotel?). They stood at the bus station in silence, too. Arthur didn't even feel like sitting down on the benches or anything, just... standing. It was so uncomfortable. Not just the silence between them, but the cold air of midnight.

"I guess..." Alfred said from his right. "This is the closest I'm going to get to driving you home at the end of a date."

Arthur's face turned horribly red. "For the last time, I'm not a bloody girl, you git." But the thought of being on a date send his heartbeat fluttering.

"I know." Alfred continued. Suddenly Arthur was forcibly aware of several things. The bus to take him to the university was pulling into the station. Alfred was extremely close to him. His face was so hot that his face physically hurt. Alfred's voice became quiet, but he was still loud enough to be heard over the engine of the bus. "After you drive your date home, you walk them to the doorstep to say goodnight.

Arthur wanted to open his mouth to speak, but he was frozen still, hot as he was, and something in the back of his mind registered that his nose felt funny. But he didn't have time to dwell on it, because he was faintly aware of a 'goodnight' reaching his ears from somewhere right as the bus' doors opened for him (the voice sounded suspiciously like Alfred but his mind couldn't tell what was who anymore). He shut his eyes tight as they could go, eyebrows furrowing strongly and Alfred's lips touched his mouth gently.

His entire mind yelled at him all at once. Why wasn't he moving! This is exactly what he wanted, wasn't it? A kiss from Alfred? Move! You fucking wanker, move, before I kick your ass! Hesitantly, Arthur gave the last little push from a kiss to a Kiss as his lips puckered slightly. It was sort of weird. He could feel the space in between Alfred's lips because they weren't quite centered on his, but that was okay. It only lasted for a moment before Alfred pulled back, his blush not quite as strong as Arthur's own, but still evident. Arthur stood still, unable to move, until Alfred squeezed his arm gently.

"Email me tomorrow."

Arthur's foot shifted closer to the bus. This was okay. He kissed Alfred, and everything was just fine. His voice sounded tight, and forced, "O-okay. I will." He stepped onto the public vehicle and walked down to the back of the bus, and waved just the ends of his fingers as Alfred waved at him from the sidewalk. "I will." He said to himself, and he smiled.


	6. Right

Arthur sat at his computer desk and stared at the screen of his laptop. Somewhere in the background, Ludwig broke the led of this pencil, again, and the electric sharpener whirred methodically. Every now and then while he stared at his email inbox, occasionally pressing f5, he licked his lips and let his front teeth linger on the bottom of his mouth. He felt like a mess, in every bit of his skin and all along his bones. How could one person do this to him, despite that person being Alfred F. Jones. It was a weird feeling, feeling fluttery and excited while at the same time wanting to cry and sob all over his keyboard. As he pressed the f5 key (for the 47th time) Ludwig cleared his throat, asking for attention. Reluctantly, Arthur turned away from the screen.

"Something wrong?" Arthur prompted when the blond across the room said nothing. For another few moments, he continued his silence.

"Do... ah..." He put his pencil down with some difficulty. "Do you know the kinds of things that Feliciano likes?" Arthur's fingers tapped against the hard wood of the desk. Moments passed between them, and the room became immediately uncomfortable, mostly on Ludwig's part. When Arthur gave no response, Ludwig felt he could do nothing but elaborate. "It's weird. It's a weird feeling. I want to know the kinds of things he likes. I want him to tell me the sort of stuff he does. Quirks. Something small, but really, it would mean the world." When the silence continued, Ludwig pushed back the hair over his forehead, having failed to use gel today. "It feels like if I ask, though, what I find out will hurt. Not physically, of course, but... just hurt in the very fiber of my existence. It's not supposed to feel like that, is it?" And it was strange. Ludwig's 'is it?' was more of a question towards himself. It didn't have the upward turn on 'it' like when you're asking another person.

The silence was too much for Arthur, so he finally gave a small, "I don't know." In return. It was true, though. He talked to Feliciano, and ate lunch with him. They shared a class. He knew that Feliciano was Italian and loved to eat pasta, and also that he was energetic but sensitive. But all these things were from observation. He didn't know one thing about Feliciano that you had to ask a person to know. "I think," Arthur began quietly, at first. "that those sorts of things, the kinds of things Feliciano likes, it's a question reserved for a person like you. A person like the way you are with Feliciano."

Ludwig hadn't been looking at him, but now he did, and he looked straight at Arthur. Past the green of his eyes and right into his core. "Okay." He said. That was all. Just, 'okay'. Arthur turned back towards his laptop, feeling like he was turning back towards reality, and his MSN was blinking at him.

Partyintheusa says: sorry about last night. god i drank so much.

Immediately, Arthur felt his heart stop. Or at least slow down so much he actually had to reach up to his chest and lay his palm flat, needing to be able to feel it still moving. It was; barely. Oh god oh god oh god. He doesn't remember. He got drunk and he doesn't remember. Arthur's slowed heart sank into the floor and bled on the cheap dorm carpeting.

XxPiratesRulexX says: Oh. Think nothing of it; I had fun.

Yeah right. Arthur groaned and almost slammed his head onto the keyboard so Alfred could decipher fijedhljgsdrebhkeodhiewfnha.

Partyintheusa says: so you didnt mind my gross alcohol breath? thats a relief. i was paranoid that youd mind and youd never want to kiss me ever again. :[

Arthur's heart returned to his chest. Oh. Arthur wanted to laugh. The fool had been worried about his breath! He let a chuckle escape and missed Ludwig's curious glance.

XxPiratesRulexX says: I didn't mind your gross alcohol breath, Alfred.  
Partyintheusa says: thats good! so like, i kissed you right? i think we should talk about it.  
XxPiratesRulexX says: Alfred, I'm pretty sure we are talking about it.  
Partyintheusa says: oh well. i meant face to face.  
XxPiratesRulexX says: Ah. I really liked that Pizza Grille you took me to. We can meet there?  
Partyintheusa says: um. can i meet you somewhere else? there's a nice sit down area at neary lagoon. pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?

Arthur considered this. He had to. Neary Lagoon was closer than downtown, for sure. But it was also pretty secluded, which meant he couldn't control anything like if they were in a public area. Alfred seemed pretty in control of himself, though, so maybe it would be nice to go visit the Lagoon. The walkways over the water were a little wobbly, but it was a nice experience overall. Arthur nodded to himself.

XxPiratesRulesxX says: Okay. I don't want to be there after dark, so meet me at two.  
Partyintheusa says: got it! see you! 3333  
Partyintheusa has logged off.

Arthur looked at the clock. 12:07pm. He closed his laptop and counted minutes as he got ready to meet Alfred. After twenty minutes, he was tired of counting and he still hadn't moved from his desk chair.

* * *

Alfred smiled at him when he arrived. Just that simple action made him blush and turn his head, but not so much that he couldn't see the other motion over to sit with him. Arthur did so, his body turned away from Alfred, his heart violently attacking his ribs and probably three of his other major organs.

"So!" Alfred laughed, "Ah... we're not really talking, are we?"

"I was always bad at conversation." Arthur said in reply, finally looking over to the blond sitting next to him. Alfred seemed focused on him, which only made Arthur's face turn even more red. He had to turn his head again, this time looking at the floor. "I was talking with Ludwig this morning-"

"Ludwig?" Alfred interrupted.

"Ludwig, yes. He's my dormmate." Arthur clarified, and Alfred didn't interject again so that must have been enough explanation. "He really likes Feliciano. He told me he wants to know the kinds of things Feliciano likes, but he thinks if he starts asking them, he'll start hurting. That feeling you get when your whole body aches but there's not a thing wrong with you. I feel like that, too."

"With me?" And the words seemed to leave Alfred's mouth so simply. As if everything were simple.

"Yes, Alfred, with you. It's the strangest feeling, because I keep telling myself there's nothing wrong with liking you, and I can't seem to figure out the problem." Arthur wanted the same thing from Alfred that he assumed Ludwig wanted from Feliciano. Not exactly friendship or benefits or sex or even love; just a relationship. A relationship with anyone where there were no walls. With Ludwig and Feliciano, Arthuer was acutely aware of the walls. He figured that's why he knew almost nothing about one of his best friends. With Alfred, he didn't want there to be walls. Wanted to know the small details, and the big picture. "I have no idea what to do. I've never done this before."

Alfred frowned, "You've never liked anyone, before?"

Arthur faintly recalled an attraction for a certain blond-haired french exchange student, but it was nothing like this. At some point Arthur lowered his voice and answered, "No."

"That's really hard to believe." Alfred sighed; Arthur noted him scooting a little bit closer. In frustration, Arthur stood up.

"You really can't believe that someone like me: bad attitude, bad cooking, always uniform, bad appearance according to all of the American population, has never been in a relationship before?" He wasn't shouting, but he wanted to, almost as much as he wanted to stop his foot on the ground.

"What's wrong with your appearance?" Arthur just turned and continued to look at the dirt, shoulders slumped, unable to voice that his eyebrows had driven off many-a-folk to liking him like Alfred liked him. "Your eyes are really green, you know." Arthur felt an ache, felt old and generally old-fashioned. Felt a hard weight on his shoulders, until he looked up and realized it was just Alfred's hands resting, there. When had he stood up? "But you're often scowling. So I can't really see them that well." Alfred brought his hands up and rubbed at Arthur's eyebrows, easing them away into a soft expression. Arthur's eyes opened a bit more as a result. "There we go."

"You're absolutely daft, you know that?" Arthur tried to keep the scowl away as he said it. His face felt weird without his brow scrunched.

"Probably." Alfred laughed. "Do you care?"

Arthur looked right into Alfred's blue eyes. A little obscured from the lenses of his glasses, but that was alright. They were so close. "Not entirely. Are you waiting for an invitation?"

"Yeah, I sort of was, actually." At that point, Alfred leaned down, and kissed him. It wasn't really like the first kiss. Arthur didn't have to wait for his head to tell his body to move, it just did. He'd never kissed anyone this way before, so the movements were a little strange, he realised. He sort of panicked and gasped when he felt Alfred's tongue touch his lips, and his hands shot up a little, but only until they brushed the leather of Alfred's jacket and decided to cling for dear life. Cling and pull and he could feel his nails against his palms through the fabric.

Alfred was really good at this. But then again Arthur had no experience to compare, so he just assumed Alfred was like a kissing god. The wire frame of Alfred's glasses hit the bridge of his nose, but he was too focused on Alfred tonguing the inside of his cheek and the roof of his mouth. When their teeth accidentally clinked together, Arthur panicked again but this time he actually moved and ducked his head. His hair head his Alfred's chest and his hair tangled a little as he pressed further, trying to just sink into Alfred's being and disappear entirely.

"So you like me right?" Alfred's nervous voice made Arthur laugh a little bit. He had Arthur's organs were waging war and his muscles on vacation, and yet had the decency to sound nervous.

A small, muffled, "Yes," escaped Arthur before he tried to pull away from the hold Alfred apparently had on him. "Maybe we can talk more. Actually talk, at my dorm?"

"About what? About... you and me?"

Arthur repeated that in his head. You and Me. "About the details, and the big picture."

In the dorms, they walked down the hallway to Arthur and Ludwig's room. "So..." Alfred sighed, "Everything will work out, right? I mean. I want everything to work out." Arthur stopped in front of his door and glanced down the hall where Feliciano's door was; where he saw a certain blond and a certain brunette friend of his share a kiss.

"Yes. I think everything will work out." And he stepped through the doorway.

* * *

a/n: Really long note you guys; last chapter and all. I know that my little 10k fic doesn't have a lot of attention, I get a decent amount of feedback for any mediocre writer, and I really do appreciate all of it. I don't think I've ever gotten a bad comment or review, but it was probably just a courtesy thing. My point about this note is that I didn't write it for anyone but me; based off of my own personal experiences (although mine are HARDLY romantic, haha). I had a rough spot in the middle, but I'm glad I kept on writing, because pushing Arthur in this fic to go through what he did also made me push myself to talk my idol, as well. :) I'll be meeting up with her and two of my other friends this weekend. So thanks you guys for keeping me going, otherwise I probably would still be typing messages to her and never sending them. (much like Arthur in the first chapter~) The last thing I have to say is, I wanted to finish this fic, and now that I have, I'm taking a writing hiatus. Like I said in the beginning, what I write is pretty mediocre, so I'm thinking a break (and some research/practice) will help me with that a bit. Thanks, everyone! :


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